


After(flight)care

by ShadowSpires



Series: WingAU [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 18:24:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14721267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowSpires/pseuds/ShadowSpires
Summary: Hevy takes care of Hardcase the morning after a long battle.





	After(flight)care

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kristsune](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kristsune/gifts).



Hardcase comes awake with a moan, sensation chasing him from dreaming into wakefulness. Hot hands on his skin, and his wings flutter at the rush of sensation as firm fingers dig _just right_ into the tightly bunched knots along his spine, where his primary flight muscles are aching and tired and overstressed, and—

  
“That feels so good,” he moans into the mattress, three quarters muffled and unintelligible.

 

A chuckle from behind him and the shift of the weight on him as Hevy leans down to press a kiss to the skin under his fingers tells him that the other gunner understood him anyway.

 

“Really?” Is the dry response kissed into his shoulder. “I couldn’t tell. Neither could the next barracks over.”

 

Hardcase snorts and moans even more dramatically, deliberately over exaggerated —  even though it does feel great — when Hevy hits the next knot.

 

“Yes, Hevy, harder!”

 

There are snorts of laughter around them, but the best one to Hardcase is Hevy’s, who laughs, deep and full and bites lightly at the meat of his shoulder in playful reprimand, since both his hands are still occupied working the strain out of Hardcase’s back. He doesn’t mind the taste of the light oil he’s using, the oil they all use to keep their feathers in prime condition works well for a _lot_ of things in a pinch.

 

“Naughty,” Hevy says, laughing. “Be good and I’ll do your arms too.”

 

Hardcase moans more honestly at that thought. His arms are almost as sore as his back. He loves his gun, but yesterday was _long,_ and it is actually a bit much to fly and wield that gun at the same time, endless compensation and micro adjustments for the difference in balance taking their toll.

 

“I knew there was a reason I loved you,” Hardcase says fervently. “I’ll be good. I’ll be _very_ good.”

 

Hevy hums contemplatively and his touch lightens for a second, dragging over the path of one of the deep blue lines that trace along Hardcase’s skin, this one leading into the downy feathers in the dip between his wings, becoming a dyed line in the feathers.

 _"Very_ good?” Hevy asks. A slow, low heat blooms in Hardcase’s belly, spreading pleasantly through his veins, making him aware in new and very wonderful ways of the miles of bare, soft, scarred skin pressed full length against him, of the weight on him, the feel of Hevy’s _kad,_ warm and just a little firm against his thigh.

 

“You know me,” Hardcase replies, stretching out beneath Hevy, wings flaring a little, unconsciously showing off the fine patterns and strength of them — even though both of them know that they are already firmly wooed. “I’m always good.”

 

Hevy nuzzles into the downy feathers he just stroked through, spreading his own wings to match the span of Hardcase’s, pressing them together in a way that made the usually energetic gunner shudder beneath him, winning another pleased hum.

 

“You’re always _something,”_ Hevy murmurs, teasing gently, sitting up again enough to go back to working at the muscles. Hardcase whines a little at the loss of contact, but his breath catches in pain-relief-pleasure as a knot spasms and consents to ease under Hevy’s determined ministrations.

 

“You love it,” Hardcase manages when he can breathe again.  

 

“I do,” Hevy says, fond and just a touch amused, as he brushes his knuckles along the other’s side in apology for the necessary pain. “For some reason. Even when you’re doing pull ups on our bunk at three in the morning.”

 

 _”I_ don’t,” comes the grumpy mumble from the next bunk over, and Hardcase cheerfully flips Cutup off without even turning his head to look.

 

“When I can move again, I’ll remind you why,” he promises, implications weighty in his voice, and Hevy laughs again, soft and easy, and really, there is nothing Hardcase is prouder of than the fact that he can manage to make Hevy laugh like that, even in the wake of a fairly gruelling battle.

 

“Or you could just relax and let me take care of you,” Hevy murmurs, touch lightening from the deep, therapeutic massage to a touch more designed to relax and soothe — and arouse, brushing over sensitive areas with just enough force to not be ticklish, but to add little sparks to the heat under Hardcase’s skin.

 

He squirms a little under the sensation, feeling the way that Hevy’s interest is stirring, pressing his own hips minutely into the mattress.

 

“How about both?” He counters, and he’s gratified at the way Hevy’s breath catches a little, the audible shift of his wings.

 

“Yes. Always. But for now, I was in the middle of something.”

 

And Hevy’s strong hands return to their work, but it’s definitely different now, the mood shifted from simple care into something a little more sensual, and Hardcase happily encourages that, making it clear what feels good, and what feels _amazing,_ and soon he’s shifting against the mattress almost constantly, wings fluttering so restlessly that Hevy gives up on the massage and lays full length against him, catching his wings with his own and scattering kisses all along his shoulder, his _kad_ hot and hard against Hardcase’s thigh, brushing tantalisingly against him.

 

 _“_ Hevy _,”_ Hardcase moans, squirming, because it’s not enough contact, still. Even pressed full length against each other he wants _more_.

 

“I’ve got you,” Hevy murmurs into his shoulder, shifting a little to bracket his thighs over the other gunner’s, _kad_ smearing against his thighs and ass, nestling in between his cheeks, which, kriff, feels amazing. “Shift up a bit.”

 

He gets a hand in under Hardcase’s hips when he lifts them, wrapping a hand around his _kad_ and giving him something to thrust into other than the mattress, loving the moan and thrust it gets him.

 

“Spread your beautiful thighs a little for me, Case’ika,” He murmurs into his ear. “I want to get my _kad_ between them, make us both feel good.”

 

Hardcase complies with a moan, louder when the shift pushes him more into Hevy’s strong grip.

 

Hevy presses between firm muscle and soft skin, a little of the oil we was using to work Hardcase’s muscles mixing with his own precome and the start of the sweat on their skin to slick his way, starting an easy rhythm for both of them, fucking into Hardcase’s sweet thighs and pressing him into his fist.

 

He continues to kiss everything in reach, and stroke over skin, cradle Hardcase’s wings in his own, and murmur praise into Hardcase’s skin: how good he feels, how much Hevy likes to make him feel good, kriff, yes, squeeze your thighs like that, you’re _amazing._ They move together, momentum building, breath coming faster as the climb slow and easy to their peaks — not frantic and rough, just steady and _good,_ intimate and warm and wonderful.

 

When Hardcase tips over, it’s with a shaky sigh, half moan and all contentment, _kad_ twitching and spilling over Hevy’s fist, shuddering under his weight.

 

“Gorgeous,” Hevy tells him, his own breath shaky into Hardcase’s neck, thrusting a few more times between his thighs before he comes too, holding him tight as he climaxes and slowly goes heavy and limp in the aftermath, nuzzling into his skin, growing cool as they settle and their bodies begin to come down from pleasure.

 

They should get up and go clean up a bit, but they’re too comfortable, and sleep is already teasing at the edges of his consciousness again, and Hardcase’s breathing is deepening and slowing, drifting off.

 

Hevy mumbles an incoherent thanks to whoever drapes a blanket over them, and follows him down into sleep.


End file.
